First Blow, First Braid
by Jennifer Lynn Weston
Summary: Jack helps Elizabeth's son face up to one of life's harsher realities. Latest in the 'Seashells' series. PG for brief reference to violent events.


_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

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Big boys don't cry, Will told himself again. Not big boys of seven. And certainly not sons of fearsome pirate captains.

Yet, the tears continued to leak out. Will pressed his face hard against a brocade bundle, blotting up the shameful drops before they spilled down his cheeks. This hidden place in the upper hold- the stowing area for water-sensitive cargo- had long served as his private refuge. Often enough, an interval here soothed whatever was bothering him... but it wasn't helping now. Not with the persistent ache in his stomach, or the anguish of knowing he'd never see Lien again.

He wished, so hard, for this to all be one of Lien's jokes- for the cheery almond-eyed boy to suddenly pop around the corner, laughing to see Will so taken in by the jest. His longing was so intense, that when he heard footsteps coming down the causeway Will felt a momentary surge of hope.

But, it was the heavy tread of adult feet. Will scrunched down behind the bolts of fabric, not wanting to see or talk to anyone, willing the grownup to just go 'way.

Whoever it was walked straight to the fabric stacks- he could hear them pause, leaning to peer over the top. The boy suddenly stood, all ready to vent resentment at this intrusion. And found himself inches away from a familiar tanned face, framed with long dreadlocks and clinking ornaments.

The face smiled kindly. "Greetings and solicitations, William."

Under normal circumstances, even a distant sight of this visitor would've made Will squeal happily. It coaxed a slight smile from him, even now.

"Hello, Captain Jack."

Jack thoughtfully eyed the arranged bales- white Indian cotton, floral-printed silk, navy-blue broadcloth, green taffeta. "Nice little place. Is theer room fer me back there?"

"I think so." The captain, who could move almost as agilely as Lien, easily scrambled over the pile. They both settled onto a bolt of burgundy velvet.

Jack leaned forward, arms resting on his knees, regarding his smaller friend as somberly as the boy had ever seen. "Yer Mum told me about Lau Lien. I am most sorry, Will."

Will dropped his gaze to his own bare toes, blinking hard. It seemed strange to him, that Captain Jack would say that about somebody he'd never even seen.

As though reading his mind, Jack continued, "I don't have to've met that lad to regret his passin'. Yer Mum's described him in detail." Jack lowered his head, recalling their conversation a few minutes ago...

_Elizabeth's eyes were dry. Pirate captains did not shed tears over the deaths of crewmembers. Not even eleven-year-olds. But the tightness in her voice told the same tale._

_"Lau Lien didn't aspire to be a pirate, or even a sailor. He'd never wanted to be anything but a scholar. When his parents drowned after their hut collapsed into the river, his older brother was the only relative able and willing to take him in. Lau Yung emphasized, when he requested permission to bring Lien aboard, that it would be only until he'd accumulated sufficient funds to send the child to a monastery school. Acquiring that was part of my reason for chancing that raid."_

_She shut her eyes a second before continuing. "Lien studied every book I lent him. Even 'Plato's Republic', though he couldn't read a word of Greek. He hoped, if he just stared long enough, he might start to understand it._

_"The first few times I assigned him to watch Willy he resented having to do 'women's work'. But he tried to do a good job, and soon they became very close friends. You should have seen them together, Jack- scampering all over this ship like a pair of puppies!" She managed a crooked grin. "Come to think of it, you'd probably have joined them."_

_"Likely enough, Lizzie. Where is young Will now?"_

_"__I'd guess t__he upper hold, among the stowed fabrics. That's where he hides out when he's unhappy."_

_"Would ye like me to head down theer an' have a talk with him?"_

_"That will probably help. He thinks so highly of you." After a moment she added, "Just don't mention I told you where he was. It's supposed to be a secret..."_

Recollection finished, Jack looked to Will again. The swelling around the boy's eyes made it obvious he'd been weeping, and was just as obviously striving not to now. / _No call fer that, whelp- not at your age. Tryin' to keep it all inside'll jus' prolong the hurt._ /

"Lien was a good mate to you, she told me. I'm sure you miss him."

The whelp's lower lip began to tremble, his control crumbling. "I don' wan' him to go 'way!" he wailed.

"Of course you don't. No one wanted him to, lad. Even the... the man who killed him, didn't plan ahead ta do it. When theer fightin' blood is up, blokes kin be indiscriminate as sharks in a frenzy- strikin' at anything that moves. That's why yer Mum always instructs ya ta stay put below decks durin' a raid. 'Tis most regrettable Lien failed ta heed her."

Willy's eyes were now flowing freely, and was his nose. Knowing Liz's attitude towards the sanctity of sleeves, Sparrow tore the edge off a nearby cotton swath and handed it to the boy. Will pushed his face into the soft fabric, breaking into sobs.

"'Tis all right." Jack took the boy in his arms, gently rubbing his back. "Yer still young enough that yer allowed to cry your griefs out w' no blame ta ye. Take advantage while you can." Jack's own eyes were deep and haunted. "This be just yer first glimpse o' death, lad. You'll see more of it over the years... maybe near as much as I have. But yer a tough whelp. You'll learn how ta cope."

Jack waited several minutes, until Will's crying had subsided to occasional sobs, then loud sniffs, before he spoke again. "Theer is somethin' you must understand, Willy..."

"Will," the youngster insisted crankily.

"Yes, of course. What ye must understand is, seafaring's never been safe. People have always died here; men, wenches, whelps. Some younger 'en Lien, or even yerself." Jack drew back to regard Will's streaked face, his voice deep and earnest. "It can happen even outside o' human effort. Storms, disease outbreaks, becalmings an' wrecks all take their toil. An' the folk left behind generally fret over how it didn't have ta happen. 'If only they'd kept further offshore.' 'If only I'd left port a day sooner, or later.' 'If only we'd stocked more o' that remedy.'" Jack sent a mournful glance in the general direction of the helm. "'If only I'd repelled the boarders faster.' Someone can always wonder what they could've done different. But even if they had, it wouldn't change the reality of death at sea.

"An' theer's no guarantee o' safety on land, either. If Lien hadn't come aboard the _Empress_ he still might've died. Maybe a lot sooner. The Singapore waterfront's no place fer an eleven-year-old ta be on his onesies, I can tell you." Sparrow dropped his gaze for a moment. Then he looked up brightly.

"At least that didn't happen, did it? Lien had five good months sailin' with his brother, with all yer Mum's books ta read an' you fer his friend. He was generally happy through that interval, eh?"

"Yes. I think. He smiled lots." Dropping the sodden cotton, Will used his sleeve to rub away his latest tears. Their flow was much reduced, Sparrow was glad to note.

"Maybe that's the thing ta focus on. I'm sure he'd much prefer you ta enjoy reminiscin' about him. At least someday. I know 'tis too soon." Jack looked thoughtful, his hand strayed to the trinket-laden braids beside his face. "But we kin do somethin' right now, to give Lien a commemoration. Do you see anythin' in me hair that puts you in mind of him?"

Will carefully studied the assortment. That one glinting black bead looked rather like Lien's eye. He placed a finger on it.

Jack raised his own, grinning as his touch identified the polished jet. "Good choice, lad!" The captain set about undoing the relevant braid.

The boy felt a sudden misgiving. "But that's one of your mem'ries."

"Aye, but not as important a one as yours. Not a best friend, nor even somethin' I lost." Jack unstrung the bauble, lifting it between thumb and forefinger. "Now, where to put this?" He held it against a curl in the middle of Will's forehead. "No, not here- that would be too constant a reminder." His hand circled around to the back of the boy's neck. "Nor here either- ye'd likely forget it altogether. So how about...?" He held it to Will's left temple. "Theers a good spot, aye?"

"Aye," the youngster agreed.

"Just hold still fer a spell." Jack proceeded to separate and straighten a longish curl, then divide it into three equal parts.

Will looked worried again. "What if Mother doesn't like it?"

"I'm sure she'll approve, once we explain what it's for." Peering close, Jack painstakingly threaded the bead onto one of the three strands. "She were right fond of Lien herself, you know- said he were a well-mannered young man, most o' the time. And keen to learn everythin' he could. It would do fine honor to his memory if you were ta follow his example." Jack's nimble fingers were now deftly plaiting. "Learnin's a very fine thing, William. Vital, in fact, if you've any ambition ta be a Captain like yer Mum. Or yer Da. Though, I rather hope yer not plannin' on takin' over his job...?"

The boy's eyes widened. "Oh, no! I don't wanna stay at sea for ten years!"

"I'd rather you didn't either. Those you left behind'd miss you sore... There, that's done." Jack gave the completed braid a small tug. "Now, what would make a worthy fastening?" Jack eyed the raveled edge of a brocade bolt, tugged loose two colored threads. He held them up, side by side.

"In Lien's part of the world, blue symbolizes wisdom- the ideal of every good scholar. An' gold is widely recognized as a warrior's color. Lau Yung is right proud his brother died as one. This'll mean somethin' ta him, too." The pirate began twisting the silken lengths together.

Will regarded the bright threads more dubiously. "Mother thinks she shouldn't of taught Lien any fencing, 'cause if she hadn't, maybe he wouldn't a grabbed the sword an' run topside to help."

"Overheard that, did ye?" Jack remarked sadly. He leaned a little closer, to wind the combined threads around the end of Willy's braid. "She may or may not be right, Will. 'Could be he'd have done the same thing, lessons or no, because he thought you were in danger an' he meant to protect you. It were brave, albeit foolish- no whelp that age has business crossing swords with a grown man. 'Tis an admirable thing to defend one's friends but it can cost dear. I should know." Jack grimaced just a bit, as he gave the knot a final tug. "There. That's a comely memorial to courageous young Lien. How do you like it?"

Will raised his hand to feel the smooth little sphere against his scalp. It did make him feel a little better, as though a part of Lien was still with him.

"It's good." After pondering a moment he asked, "Does it make me look like you?"

"Maybe jus' a mite. Let's hope Mrs. Turner doesn't consider that objectionable." Sparrow leaned close again, looking sly. "Yer Mum likes me a lot, but I think she'd rather you grew up to look like yer Da."

"Why?"

"Because... mind you, don't repeat this to 'er... yer Mum, though a fine woman, has questionable taste in men."

"You said she liked you."

Jack scowled at this impudence. "All right; maybe not totally ques..."

He was fortuitously interrupted by a loud rumbling from Will's midsection. The boy stared down in frank amazement. "My stomach doesn't hurt now!"

"That's good hearing." The Captain flashed his familiar merry smile, which made Will believe things really would get better now. "Do you think ye can eat some lunch, then? I believe theer steamin' up some of those pork dumplings we both like."

Will nodded. He and Jack scrambled back over the fabric bolts, and headed topside together. Will lifted his hand again, reassured to feel the bead fixed securely in his hair.

Things were definitely starting to get better.

_xxx  
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**FINIS**


End file.
